


The Bigger Man

by cassiopea (nina_monk)



Series: Twice the Man I Used to Be [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Anorexia, Body Dysphoria, Body Positivism, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Chubby Bruce, Eating Disorders, Fat Shaming, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Abuse, Science Boyfriends, Triggers, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, fat acceptance, obesity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/cassiopea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony uncovers Bruce’s darkest secret, but it’s not what he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bigger Man

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the triggers and warnings. 
> 
> This is a WG story based on many personal experiences but is not meant to mimic anyone's personal journey from either side. Although this is *primarily* a weight gain piece it begins with heavy anorexia/dysmorphia triggers. Note: If you have *any* triggers with food or the body this story will make you uncomfortable, and possibly trigger you. 
> 
> I say again: Heed the warnings.

Sometimes Bruce forgot about Tony's strong scientific skills, including his high perception, his keen awareness, and his ability to discern between truth and slight-of-hand.

“Bruce...”

“Hm?” Bruce mentally counted the amount on his plate and divided it in his mind. 300...350. The total couldn’t be over 350. While he kept concentrating he missed Tony’s frown entirely.

“How long have you been living at Stark Tower?”

He took a large gulp of water as they sat down for their meal. “Coming on three months, I guess. Why?”

“You’re still painfully skinny. Here.” Tony immediately scraped some of his food onto Bruce’s plate, but Bruce angrily shoved it away and some of it splattered across the floor's tile. “Hey! What the hell, Banner--!”

“Thanks a lot, Tony. Now I have to start all over...” No, it was easy. He could count it and separate it. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again and...

_Dammit._

Tony’s jaw shifted while Bruce looked anywhere but in Tony’s eyes. “I thought it was your high metabolism, at first,” Tony said quietly. “I mean, having the Hulk inside you 24/7, even as potential energy, burns a lot of spare calories. But you don’t run on high octane when you’re Bruce Banner, do you?”

Bruce swallowed. “No.”

“You have a normal metabolism when you’re you, don’t you?”

Bruce bared his teeth. “Tony, it’s not a big deal. When I was on the run, I took what I could get and I’m not used to eating a lot.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Bruce slammed down his fork. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d looked in the mirror now and noticed a green tinge. “ _Yes_ , I have a normal metabolism as ‘me.’ Everything about me is normal when I’m not the H...the Other Guy. Everything changes when my autonomic nervous system kicks into overdrive, though, so _don’t fucking push me_.”

Which was a warning if he ever gave one.

Tony didn’t say anything. Still upset, Bruce pushed from the table and stomped out. 

Good. He didn’t feel very hungry anymore.

***

Bruce hoped Tony would leave it alone. A week, two weeks went by before anything else happened and they were comfortably working in tandem in one of his labs. Tony pulled something up on the screens, and Bruce did a double take as he checked his data. “The coefficient is all wrong,” he grumbled. 

“Then we start over. Bruce, shoot me what you’re working on.” Bruce swiped the screen and hovered over Tony’s shoulder. “See...see. There. Right there.” Tony began typing furiously. “The wave isn’t set. It’s _not_ a singularity--”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. A slow grin pinked his lips as he realized what Tony was typing. “You know who came up with that equation, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you did, genius,” Tony muttered. He kept his eyes on the screen and kept typing. “But I’m not done yet. Watch.”

“Hmm...” Bruce frowned as Tony added to it. “But that won’t--”

“Yes, yes, _yes_ it will,” Tony spat. “Don’t be a Negative Nelly, Bruceinator.”

“But--”

“Nope, nah, ah. No buts.” He stabbed the enter key with his thumb and whirled around in his desk chair, sporting a shit-eating grin. Tony didn’t bother looking at the screen, instead choosing to stare at Bruce’s awestruck face. “Done, and _done_.”

“What-- _what_?” Bruce practically shoved Tony out of the way. The equation - their equation - manifested through JARVIS’ graphics in an array of bright swirls and intense contrasts. “That...that’s impossible!”

“No, it isn’t, you’re seeing it for yourself.” Tony smirked and picked at invisible dirt beneath his nails. “We make a great team, y’know. We finish each--”

“--others’ equations,” Bruce joined. He adjusted his glasses and basked in the completion of a project he’d been working on for almost five years. Shivering, he touched the screen and accepted the glow surrounding his hand. “It has to be tested, Tony. This is still a simulation. There’s no proof this will work.”

“It’ll work, Banner.”

“But how do you know?”

“Same way I know you got beat with more than just the occasional strap.”

Bruce’s hand dropped and he became incredibly still, feeling the familiar smoulder of the Hulk stirring deep within. “Tony, don’t go there.”

“I already did. Bruce, people don’t starve themselves in my house, okay? I don’t let things like that happen.”

“I’m not starving. Drop it, already.”

“Then let’s go out. Let’s get a Chicago style stuffed pizza and drink lots of beer and then share one of those gooey brownie--”

Bruce wanted to retch. “I said drop it, goddammit!”

And he started shaking, his tenuous control slipping. Tony, dumb Tony, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, which was surprising enough. Yes they had been getting closer as friends but this was more than friendship, and Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of it. Still. the hug had the desired effect. He calmed enough so he could regain control but he recognized the slip. Almost a very costly slip.

“Bruce...”

He panted. “Leave me alone.”

“I can’t. I won’t. Not until you tell me.”

“Tony,” Bruce warned. “I will not fucking tell you again. Let go, before Hulk makes you.”

“Or else what? You’ll run?”

“If I have to,” Bruce spat.

“You’re safe here, Bruce,” Tony murmured. “You always will be, with me.”

Tony let go, but his words rang in Bruce’s ears. They didn’t talk about it again for a while, but Bruce learned to be more careful around Tony whenever he did anything. 

Especially when it came to food.

***

Tony had the memory of an elephant, and Bruce...didn’t. He had gaps, holes in his memory from the Hulk and really, all he wanted his memory for was science anyway. Bruce learned to shield himself from what he didn’t want to remember, and the Hulk helped in that regard. But that didn’t work for everything, all the time. Especially if he slept.

Still, he prepped for every eventuality. Running was problematic but it could’ve been the optimum solution had it not been for Tony, the Avengers, SHIELD and Ross tracking his steps, too. And Bruce didn’t put it past Tony to find him quickly, especially with JARVIS hooked to every satellite and camera in the world. So the compromise, the compromise if he _stayed,_ was a panic room deep in the belly of Stark Tower, somewhere away from any vital equipment or computers or building struts. Something comfortable but “cage-like” designed by Fury that could withstand his transformations. His bedroom could not reside on the apartment levels with everyone else because of the danger he posed. But he made sure there were cameras in his room, so if anything happened he could review the damage firsthand.

And Bruce discovered for the past two weeks he Hulked in his sleep five days in a row.

He threw his glasses across the lab table. “Shit.”

“Agreed,” Tony said, and Bruce jumped. He hurriedly toggled from the computer screen but it didn’t matter, Tony had seen everything. “Mind telling me what that little display was all about? Thought we were past the midnight tantrum stage.”

Bruce licked his lips and busied himself with something on another terminal. “It’s nothing, Tony.”

Tony strolled over to him and brought back up the feed. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me,” he grunted. Tony fast-forwarded the camera and watched Bruce ruin ten sets of pajamas in thirty seconds. “It looks like you’re trying to deal with something on your own, and it’s not working.”

Bruce smirked darkly at a floating 3D model of his blood, hovering above one of JARVIS’ multifunctional screens. “What, are you a billionaire, philanthropist psychologist now?”

“You forgot genius and playboy. And no, I’m not. But I know a thing or two about drowning. Time was, I used to self-medicate pretty heavily. Not so much anymore, but I can talk about that crap now. As you should.”

“No, no.” Bruce shook his head and laughed weakly. “You think you know, Tony, but you don’t. You really don’t. Your life...”

“Isn’t yours, I got that. But go figure, the old man sure liked cracking me a few times across my skull when he was fully loaded. See, dear old Howie was a mean, abusive drunk, an asshole of the highest caliber. And I was fucking glad when they buried pops six feet under because if they hadn’t, I would’ve put a bullet in his brain pan after college.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. He was angry and grateful to be rid of the secret burden, but mostly angry. “You read my SHIELD file.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m nosy. I know everyone’s file who lives under my roof. Can’t be too careful.” He rolled a stylus on the desk with a calloused thumb, voice quieting.”Not since Obie, anyway.”

“Stark, you had no right.”

“No, I didn’t, and I’m sorry, really sorry for invading your space. But it’s out in the open now and I’m not judging you for it, Banner. Honest. But I have a feeling that file isn’t giving away all your secrets, is it?”

Bruce turned from him and fitfully rubbed his knuckles. “Him killing my mother wasn’t enough?” His voice rose a few octaves. “Seriously? You really think the bruises and the hospital stays and the...the fucking broken bones weren’t traumatic enough for me?”

“Sometimes the worst abuses aren't physical,” Tony said softly. 

Bruce heard his voice break. “You think...you would’ve thought. You would’ve believed it was worse. It should’ve been worse, Tony. Why is...” he swallowed. “It's wrong,” he whispered. “How fucking sick am I that I _preferred_ getting beat up to the verbal abuse?”

All it took was Tony’s hand softly squeezing his shoulder, and Bruce broke. His body hunched as the buried sobs came, and Tony held him close to his chest, not caring that Bruce's tears soaked his shirt. “No, it’s not sick,” he whispered. “And you're not wrong. Not at all.”

***

Bruce confessed. Told Tony how, at age four, the abuse started with vicious verbal attacks. Bruce was naturally a bigger kid from his peers, whether from his father’s genes or his mother’s he wasn’t entirely sure but Brian Banner, military to the core, didn’t like that his son might grow up to be a “fat nerd.” Bruce played just as hard and ate about the same, but he had a lot more baby fat than other four-year-old kids his age. So Brian Banner taunted him. Gave him names like Butterfat and Lard Ass. And Pillsbury, yeah. Pillsbury or Doughboy had been favorite taunts and even now Bruce couldn’t view the logo or see the puppet without wanting to throw up. 

And the verbal abuse only got worse, so to compensate Bruce pushed food away, realizing his father praised him just a little - just the tiniest amount - when he left food on his plate or if he left hungry. The physical attacks happened later, but Bruce clung to that small bit of praise. That maybe, if he controlled what he ate, his father would be pleased. And if he got beat up, well, that just meant he needed to control his food intake a little better.

It had become a vicious cycle, but the Hulk had become an oasis at times. Bruce had excuses to either eat or not to eat. He had an excuse to run away from food or eat very little because others were starving and he was lucky to be alive. He deserved the Hulk. The Hulk would punish his bad habits.

Except when Hulk didn’t. 

Tony took Bruce to a couch in the lab, a private corner, and told JARVIS to dim the lights while Bruce cried like a four-year-old. Tony rocked him gently, attempting to get Bruce to empty the buried hurts. Anyone passing by would’ve assumed something they shouldn’t have, but Tony wouldn’t have cared.

“Crap,” Bruce whispered when he exited his fugue. His lashes were as wet as Tony’s shirt. He wiped his eyes shakily with the back of his hand. “That...I’m sorry, Tony. You didn’t need that. You didn’t need to hear--”

“Shut up,” Tony said kindly. Bruce nodded and sat up, gulping deeply. “See?" Tony purred. "I was right all along. I'm always right.”

Bruce tried to laugh, but it sounded like painful hiccups. “You’re still an ass.”

“I know. And I don’t think...” Tony sighed and squeezed Bruce’s shoulder again. “I don’t think you should ever be afraid of food, and I don’t think you should hide it, either.”

Bruce shot him a look. “It’s unconscious, Tony.”

“I know it is. But I told you, you’re safe with me. I don’t judge. Hell, I’m one of the biggest hedonists on the planet and nothing’s off limits in my mind. But you can’t tell me you’re not starving after Hulk ravages your reserves.”

“Yeah...”

“Yeah. I thought so. And I know what gets delivered to the tower, or at least Pepper does. I notice what goes missing after you Hulk out, and you shouldn’t eat in secret. You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you have to eat to bring up your reserves and you shouldn’t be ashamed if you want to eat _beyond_ your reserves.”

Bruce flinched. “It’s wrong to eat more.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m putting my foot down against that negative talk, and I don’t want you to feel guilty for eating, ever again. If you’re hungry, eat. Hell, if you just like the taste of it, enjoy it. No one here is going to say a word about it. Least of all me.”

Bruce snorted. “I doubt that very much.”

“Try me,” Tony said seriously.

***

It took weeks, months even, before Bruce made significant breakthroughs. Tony made sure he was there for Bruce, though, at every meal and at every snack. Bruce would hyperventilate when he thought he’d eaten “too much” and Tony learned what to say and what not to say to calm him down and help him see that no, he was in a judgment free zone, and food was not “poison.”

Eventually Bruce was strong enough to eat on his own and even with the other Avengers, though Tony still noticed Bruce controlling his food around people. And that frustrated him. But Tony had faith Bruce would get better.

During all of it he and Pepper had their ups and downs (well, more downs than ups), and at one point Bruce found him passed out with a bottle of gin (and yeah, that was bad; he hated gin), and the physicist ended up helping him to bed. In his inebriation, Tony blurted he had a crush on him, and Bruce blushed scarlet. As drunk as he was Tony remembered, and he had a feeling Bruce felt similarly, but it would take time for them to discern the new patterns of their relationship since neither quite knew what to do. On the other hand, he and Pepper had an amicable break, which gave him more opportunities to spend with Bruce. Or rather, Bruce spent more time with him. And that was more than okay.

Tony drummed his fingers on a lab table, distinctly not-paying attention to a configuration for the past hour. Bruce must’ve said something to him, because he suddenly blinked and looked over. “What?”

Bruce chuckled. “I said, we should close up shop early and watch _District 9_ and _Children of Men_.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Seriously? You wanna go cerebral tonight? I’m in the mood for _Alien_. Or _Serenity_.”

They both looked at each other and grinned. 

“ _Matrix_ and _Inception_ ,” they crowed together. 

“Perfect,” Tony said. “Pizza. We need pizza and beer.”

Bruce looked up a little shyly. “Chicago style?”

“Hell, ya! Let’s do it up, B-man.”

Tony didn’t let on how excited he was, that Bruce had chosen for himself, and he was thrilled when Bruce ate the meal of a normal person without wigging out, and had popcorn on top of _that_. He had promised Bruce a judgment free zone, and he meant it. 

After the movies Bruce gave Tony a small surprise kiss; nothing major, just a thank you. But Tony was watching carefully, watching for his signals, and Bruce was testing him to see what he’d do. Tony didn’t take advantage but he did swivel Bruce’s chin and he softly returned the kiss, on his lips.

“Mm,” Bruce murmured.

“More?” Tony asked.

“Yes...?”

Tony grinned. “You got it.”

***

It felt right too, the two of them. They seemed to fit just fine. And Tony smiled when Bruce became comfortable with him and he didn’t even care when he saw little tells of Bruce in his condo. They began sharing the other's space until finally Tony told him to just move into one of the upstairs apartments already. Bruce balked at first, but Tony asked if Bruce had been having any incidents since he confessed his childhood in the lab. Bruce had to admit that he hadn’t.

“Then it’s settled,” Tony told him. “Come live with the big kids.” 

By that time what thrilled Tony most - not that Bruce noticed, thank God he didn’t - wasn't that Bruce moved from the basement. It was that Bruce finally gained enough weight to be healthy...and a bit extra. Hallelujah, Bruce was no longer terrified of food. In fact, Tony made sure there were high calorie snacks wherever Bruce went, which included in the less sensitive lab areas and anywhere in his apartment. Bruce had gotten so comfortable that he no longer counted how much he ate, which Tony saw as the ultimate victory over an abusive past. Tony chuckled; Bruce was also turning into his own little food hedonist, and Tony couldn’t have been happier for him. 

“Grrm,” Tony growled. He hugged Bruce close, enjoying the plushy softness of the other man’s new love handles; he moved his hands into the back of Bruce’s pockets and smirked, knowing there wasn’t much extra give for his hands. Bruce would need new clothes, though he wouldn’t mind seeing Bruce’s stomach spill over his belt, either. He just wanted Bruce to be comfortable in his own skin, no matter his size.

“Hmm,” Bruce agreed. Tony hugged him tighter. “Guess I should’ve moved up here a long time ago.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony agreed. “You missed out on all the perks, man. Freedom, surround sound--” Bruce’s stomach growled and Tony laughed at the small blush creeping up Bruce’s neck. “And pizza and beer. You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Bruce admitted. “I could go for a meat lovers, or something.”

Tony grinned. “No veggie lovers, huh? I thought you were vegetarian.”

“Guess my appetite’s changed a little,” Bruce said, shrugging.

“Then let’s go for it,” Tony said. He clasped Bruce on the back and they ended up finishing an extra large between them, though Bruce consumed the bulk of it. Bruce also had more than a few beers, and Tony didn’t mind that either; Bruce was an honest, giggly drunk. 

“You wanna...stay here, tonight?”

Bruce’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah. Been wantin’ to do that for a while.”

Tony chuckled. “Me too.”

Their first time was gentle, and Tony made sure to keep Bruce comfortable and to make sure he wasn’t in any pain. But more than anything, Tony enjoyed prodding Bruce’s bigger form and he loved exploring the parts he helped pad.

“ ‘M gettin’ porky,” Bruce slurred after they were sated, and Tony scowled.

“Stop that. I like _you_ , Bruce,” he said soberly. “What did I say about the negative talk?”

“That...you hate it?”

“Right. So what if you’re bigger. It looks good on your frame. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am,” Bruce said, grinning stupidly. Tony leaned in for a kiss. “I like you, Tony. A lot. You make me happy.”

“Good,” Tony said. “And like I said, judgment free zone here. You're perfect, whatever your size.”

“Good to know,” Bruce murmured, and he rolled over on his side. Smiling, Tony crowded behind him and squeezed the new soft roll surrounding his midsection.

***

“...something to Stark.”

Tony’s ears perked up when he passed by the changing room. He’d just gone for a short run when he caught the tail end of Clint and Steve’s conversation in the back. Obviously they didn’t know he was there; otherwise, they would’ve called him over or shut up. Tony hung back knowing damn well he was being nosy, but not caring in the least.

“Maybe,” Steve sighed. “But I don’t think it’s our place. I mean it’s not hurting the team, per se.”

Clint quirked an eyebrow at him. “Maybe not, but it’s not like the media’s asking him to pose in photo ops anymore.”

Steve made a face. “Since when did Bruce ever want that? He’s a science guy, he doesn't like extra attention.”

“Stark likes it.”

“Stark’s different, Clint. Anyway...look. Tony doesn’t see it as a problem, so I don’t think we should. Bruce is a little overweight, but--”

Clint barked, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “A _little_? That’s like saying the Taj Mahal is a _little_ fancy. Or that the Chitauri were a _little_ problematic. Banner’s like what, a hundred twenty? One-fifty over his ideal weight right now?”

“That’s a bit harsh, Clint.”

“No, it ain't,” Clint said, his Jersey accent spreading thick. “Unless Banner Hulks out, he’s no use to us in the field. He’s lucky Hulk gives him some immunity, because without that he’d be looking at an early heart attack. Hell, I don’t even know how Stark can stand being around that--”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

Clint and Steve spun around, but at least Clint appeared somewhat contrite. Enough that he looked at the wrapping around his forearms rather than Tony’s enraged face. “Tony, look. I didn’t mean anything by it, but you’ve gotta open your eyes, man. Bruce is almost as fat as us three put--”

“Not another word, Barton,” Tony ground between his teeth. He marched over and forced the other man to look up at him. “One more quip, and I’ll blow you out of the motherfucking sky next time we’re in battle. They’ll find half your body in Omaha, the other half in Santa Fe. You get me?”

Clint’s eyes hardened, but he nodded at Tony.

“Tony,” Steve said, trying to diffuse the situation. It didn’t help, Tony’s anger now had a new target. “Clint was...out of line, but he has a point. Maybe the Hulk protects Bruce from the dangers of being too large, but aesthetically, he’s...um.”

“It’s called ‘fat,’ Cap,” Tony growled. “He’s fat, obese, whatever the so called clinical or in vogue term is. But I don’t care, and neither should you two.” His eyes flashed fire between Clint and Steve. “You said it yourself, Steve, it’s none of your business. Leave him the fuck alone, or you’ll answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Clint spat, and Steve nodded his own agreement. 

Tony spun on his heel and left, but Clint couldn’t resist one last barb. “He ain’t healthy, Tony. It’s not good for him to be that fat.”

“That’s for Bruce to decide, Clint,” Tony ground out as he turned the corner. “Not you.”

He was glad he wasn’t wearing his armor and that it wasn’t a sparring day. Otherwise he would’ve put Clint in the hospital.

Tony shook as he headed to the lab. Bruce would be there, maybe munching on a cream donut during his break (his favorite), but no matter what Barton said, Tony didn’t judge Bruce’s outward appearance. What he _saw_ was a man who enjoyed his body and his food enough to not mind his rounder cheeks and double chin. And a man who was vastly better off mentally and emotionally than he was over a year ago. And so what if Bruce had doubled his weight since arriving; he’d been dangerously _underweight_ when he set foot in Stark Tower - did Clint see none of that? Did _any_ of them? 

"God, what a bunch of pretentious assho--”

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony’s anger evaporated. Bruce waved to him from across the lab, and Tony waved back. The chair Bruce used had a little more support than the others in the room and it had a little more give, but apart from that it looked pretty identical to all the other chairs.

“Hey, Brucie,” Tony said quietly. He smiled and sauntered to his lover, giving the man a soft kiss on his fuller cheeks. “You holding up ok? You hungry?”

“Yeah on the holding up, but I’m not hungry y--” His stomach growled loudly. Over the months Bruce's voice had deepened some, and Tony couldn’t help being turned on by the new bass rumble. “Okay, so...maybe my body begs to differ.” Bruce rubbed a hand over his low, heavy paunch while Tony lay his hand on top Bruce’s. There was a lot more of Bruce to hold on to and Tony’s hands barely looped around Bruce’s middle when he hugged him these days. But Bruce reminded him of a big polar bear, who was soft and warm in the right places. 

He nibbled Bruce's ear and was rewarded with a deep moan. “So what’re you in the mood for? Chinese? Thai? There’s that new pizza buffet down the street if you don’t mind walking a few blocks.” He left it open; if Bruce didn’t feel like walking, he wouldn’t.

“Mm. Tempting,” Bruce said. But instead he sighed and swiveled his chair around to face Tony. “I could go for Italian, too. But Tony...I wanted to talk to you about something first.”

Tony looked at the seriousness in Bruce’s eyes, and pulled up another chair. He tried hiding his smile as Bruce adjusted his lab coat - the coat was entirely too small and Bruce couldn’t button it. But the open coat gave Tony a good view. Bruce's untucked dress shirt masked his considerable belly, but the shirt was showing signs of distress; the buttons near the bottom were severely strained and close to popping off. Tony smiled softly and made a note to take Bruce shopping next week for roomier shirts. 

But when Bruce fidgeted with his glasses, much like he used to when he first arrived, Tony's smile vanished. Bruce continued tugging at his shirt tail and adjusting his bulkier frame in his chair. 

Tony reached out and tapped his arm. “C’mon. What’s wrong?”

“Do you still...am I still attractive to you?”

Tony scowled. If either Clint or Steve said anything-- “Of course, Bruce. _God,_ yes. Like I told you before, this is a --”

“--judgment-free zone,” Bruce finished, nodding. His pudgier fingers were surprisingly nimble as he fiddled with his glasses, but he didn’t look up.

“Are _you_ still happy, Bruce?” Tony was afraid of the answer, but Bruce looked up, surprised.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. But I...” he sighed. “I weighed myself today, Tony. I haven’t weighed myself in over a year, because I wanted to...well.”

“Yeah,” Tony said softly. “You didn’t need any triggers. I thought I took all of the scales out.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed. “There were still some in the gym, though. I didn’t...” Bruce laughed nervously and Tony waited patiently; Bruce shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m pushing 310, Tony. That’s...that’s huge.”

Tony couldn’t help himself. “So? Compared to Hulk, you’re a svelte runway model.”

“Heh. Maybe.” Bruce’s smile faded. “But this is enough. I’m big enough. I’m...done.”

Tony nudged his arm. “Give me more here, Banner. Done, how?” 

“No, that’s just it. I guess you can say I’ve made peace with...with all of it. I don’t think I’d be happier any larger - in fact, I think I’d be losing my quality of life, even with...the Other Guy. I think...” Bruce smiled softly. “I think it feels like food can just be food again, Tony. Pleasurable, enjoyable, and for living. But not an extreme in either direction. Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly,” Tony murmured. He went in for a deep kiss and tugged at Bruce’s plump lips with his teeth. Bruce grunted softly. “Like I said, I love you for you. If you feel comfortable where you are, I’m good.”

“Tell you what,” Bruce told him. “I’ll let my body decide and keep my thoughts out of it.”

“Good idea.”

It ended up that Bruce lost a little weight and stabilized at 280, but he was comfortable with it, and by proxy himself. Tony didn’t let any of the other Avengers “encourage” Bruce to lose more because it wasn’t any of their goddamn business. But Tony did notice something, something he doubted Bruce realized: Bruce was equalizing with the Hulk’s physique. And his transformations, when the Avengers were called to serve, appeared far less painful and occurred at a much faster rate. Bruce’s larger frame had helped balance the previously agonizing change, so much so that Bruce found it less traumatizing, and he could retain more of himself. More of his mind. And Hulk began speaking in full sentences, thank God.

Tony found it endearing. Because at long last, Bruce could be himself inside _and_ out. And that, above everything else, was the man Tony loved.

**Author's Note:**

> New note (10/2/15)
> 
> People have asked for the chronology for the entire series so, if you'd like to read the story in *chronological* order (but not posting order), read as follows:
> 
> 1\. The Bigger Man (Overture) (First/Part One)  
>  2\. Friction (Part Six)  
>  3\. Inertia (Part Three)  
>  4\. Equilibrium (Part Four)  
>  5\. Circumference (Part Five)  
>  6\. Measurement Theory (Part Two)  
>  7\. Momentum (Part Seven)


End file.
